


The Softness of their Arms

by MysticalShizz



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Gen, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticalShizz/pseuds/MysticalShizz
Summary: Just a little drabble of you (the apprentice) and Asra's nightly routine.
Relationships: Apprentice & Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana) & Reader, Asra (The Arcana)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	The Softness of their Arms

When the last customer of the day left, it was well into dusk. The shop, previously bathed in the light of day, was now barely lit with the last vestiges of the sunset. From what you could see outside, the sky had become the light purple of evening, with the clouds still reflecting the pink of the sunset. In the back of your head, you remember that pink skies at night indicate good weather for the next day - an old wives tale told at the docks, which hasn’t led you astray yet. 

Quickly going to extinguish the lamp burning outside, which indicated whether or not the shop was open, you shut the heavy wooden door. Laying a palm on the wood, feeling the familiar grain and traces of Asra’s magic, you renewed the protection spells on the door. There was a bright glow from the sigils and markings that activated the protections, which faded in an instant, but left you with the innate feeling of safety. 

From there, the evening tasks went by smoothly. Repackaging the herbs left out from the last customer, tidying up the table in the backroom, emptying out incense ashes, and sweeping the shop. By the time you had finished, the light of day had gone, and the chill of night set in. Outside, the street was emptying; the only ones left being late-night workers and those heading to the tavern. With a quick snap of your fingers, a candle on the windowsill lit, casting a little light around the dark shop. Now that the shop was cleaned, and the day was done, you began to wonder about the whereabouts of Asra. Earlier they had decided to nap in the backroom, but they weren’t there when you had checked. Maybe they had moved upstairs? While you were with a customer? 

Determining where Asra was had become your new objective. Taking the candle from the windowsill, you spared one last look at the shop before venturing upstairs. Before you reached the second floor, you noticed the faint smell of tea in the air - warm, earthy, familiar. One cooling cup sat on the counter, untouched, brewed to bitterness. With a glance at the bed, you spot the culprit: fast asleep and burrowed in the nest of blankets on your bed. 

Pouring the tea down the drain, and the leaves into the trash, you begin your nightly routine. A quick wash, fixing your hair for the night, brushing your teeth, swapping your outfit for one of Asra’s spare shirts. Passing the kitchen, you begin to tidy up the counter but a soft hum pulls your attention toward the bed.

Bleary eyed, Asra is extending an arm to you. You see their lips pull up into a gentle smile, before they sit up slightly - extending their arm further toward you. It would feel almost heartless to decline an invitation like that. You allow their magnetism to pull you across the room, dishes forgotten, accepting the hand they’ve drawn you in with. Their hand is warm, and the way Asra grasps your hand is so natural, so comforting, like you’ve done this in a thousand lifetimes before now. Asra maneuvers you to the side of the bed unoccupied, lifting the blankets to make a space just big enough for you to squeeze into. Once they’re sure you are comfortable, they bring your hand up to their face, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, before scooting closer to you. 

Asra isn’t content until the two of you are as close as you can get, pulling your joined hands to their chest, using their free hand to nuzzle you into the hollow of their neck, and twining your legs together. This close, you can feel the steady beat of Asra’s heart, and you allow your free hand to slide under their body to curl around their back. Once there, it’s natural to run your hand up their spine, then back down, feeling every knob of their spine beneath your fingertips. With a shiver, Asra begins to rub slow circles into the hand they are holding. 

No words have been spoken between you, but words aren’t necessary. You’ve danced this dance a million times, and the safety, the comfort, the overwhelming feeling of home, bring you right back into Asra’s arms every night. 

The windows bring in a chilly breeze, making you thankful for the warmth of Asra’s body. The outside world seems so far away, the drunken singing from taverns and rambunctious laughter of neighboring families doesn’t break the bubble of calm you have both created. Leaning back slightly, you see that Asra’s eyes have closed again. Their lips are slightly parted, hair forming a fluffy white halo; taking your joined hands, you gently trace their jaw, then their cheekbone, then the line of their nose. Either Asra is dead asleep, or they’re letting you have your fun, but they don’t stir. There’s just something about how soft and peaceful Asra looks that makes a warm feeling burrow its way into your chest, spreading through your bones, and filling your whole body with the undeniable truth: you love them. 

You love them. You love them. You love Asra, gods you love Asra. The normalcy you have created for yourselves, the domesticity you have allowed yourselves to bask in, the home you have created around the two of you (three, including Faust). 

Bringing your joined hands back between your chests, you breathe in, and breathe out. It feels like the first full breath you’ve taken all day. The hand that was running down Asra’s spine is now tracing shapes into their lower back, and you can’t help but bring your head to nuzzle their neck. The soft skin you find there is inviting, and you press a small kiss to the junction of their neck. 

You feel more than hear the little laugh Asra lets out, betraying the illusion of sleep. Their little laugh instigates a smile creeping onto your face, and you squish your face into their neck a little harder. With their hand under your head, playing with the loose hairs at the base of your neck, you find your eyes closing. You allow the exhaustion of the day to wash over you, knowing that whenever you wake next, Asra will be there. Whatever happens next, Asra will be there. As you drift off into sleep, you feel Asra press a kiss to the top of your head, and you know that you’re so, so loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter! @/MysticalShizz


End file.
